The Drake in the Belly Pouch
Raon left the Black Market and made for the Sepia Merchant Guild. As they passed through the shops belonging to the guild, the merchants' gazes struck them like a hail of arrows.
"Th-they're staring daggers at us..."
Dorian swallowed hard, feeling the weight of every eye on his skin.
"Why are they looking at us like that?"
"They're checking whether you actually brought a drake back."
Word that Adis Sefia had set a trial to fetch a drake in order to choose his successor had already spread through the entire guild. This was the matter that would decide the next master of the house — of course the merchants were staring.
"They didn't bring anything."
"It'll be in a subspace pouch."
"So, what, claws and nails and bones, like the third young lady?"
"They might not even have managed that much."
"Still, he went with the White Sword Dragon. They must have gotten at least that."
Watching Raon and Dorian head for the headquarters, the merchants were already certain the pair had brought back a few pieces of a drake — not a drake itself.
"So the successor's seat goes to the second young master after all?"
"Has to. Who would have imagined he'd produce a drake in a single week?"
"His connections really are something else."
"A treasure money can't buy."
The merchants who backed Dorian's second brother, Dialun, were already smiling as if the fight were over.
"Listen to this nonsense."
"The eldest young master isn't even back yet."
"Don't start celebrating too early."
"Exactly. If it's Lord Jeser, he'll bring something that puts a stuffed drake to shame."
"Try not to cry about it later."
The merchants who followed Jeser, the eldest, shot dark looks at the ones standing behind Dialun.
"With the eldest young master, he might even bring a whole drake."
"Right. And a far bigger one than any stuffed specimen."
"I can't wait to see how the Succession Test ends."
Some of them, having apparently heard that Jeser was on his way with a drake of his own, were already smiling with the easy certainty of victory.
"It'll come down to the eldest and the second in the end."
"It was always going to."
"A shame the third young lady dropped out so easily. She never struck me as the type to lose that hollowly."
"I had a little hope for Young Master Dorian too, since he brought the White Sword Dragon along — but I suppose he's still too young."
"Can't be helped. All he's done at House Zieghart is train with a sword."
The merchants were already talking as if the choice of successor had narrowed to Jeser and Dialun, and they would speak of no one else.
"Urgh..."
Dorian stopped in front of the headquarters, his hands trembling.
"What are you standing around for? Go in."
"I can't take it! We have to show them what we caught!"
He shoved a hand into his Belly Pouch, ready to turn around and show the merchants the drake.
"Haa."
Raon sighed and flicked Dorian on the back of the head.
A satisfying crack rang out, sharp as a splitting watermelon. Dorian clutched his skull and crumpled to the ground.
"Gyaaaaaah!"
He looked up with a face on the verge of tears.
"W-why did you hit me?!"
"We went to all that trouble to hide the information. Why would you put it on display?"
Raon spread an aura barrier to keep the sound from leaking out, then shook his head.
"Huh?"
"Is there a single person here who thinks you're going to win? The test isn't even over, and they're all already acting like your brothers have the successor's seat locked down."
"W-well, yes. That's why I was going to go tell them—"
Dorian rubbed his Belly Pouch, his eyes narrowing.
"No."
Raon clicked his tongue, looking down at him.
"Picture it. Your brothers are certain of victory. The other merchants are getting ready to congratulate them. And in that exact moment, a thirty-five-meter drake comes spilling out of your gut. How do you think that would feel?"
"Th-they'd lose their minds."
"Don't you want to see those faces?"
"I-I do! I want to see them! Please let me see them!"
Dorian nodded so hard his eyes went round, looking for all the world like Wrath when he was starving.
"Then endure it. The humiliation you're swallowing right now is nothing compared to the joy that's coming back to you."
Raon patted Dorian's shoulder and smiled.
You have to hit them that hard if you want to take this guild.
On the day the Succession Test results were announced, it wouldn't just be the headquarters staff. Every merchant in the vicinity would gather. If they pulled that drake out at the precise moment everyone was certain Jeser would be the successor, it would leave a searing impression on every merchant who had ever dismissed Dorian. In other words, it would be a long stride toward swallowing this guild whole.
"The way you talk, one would think this guild already belonged to you."
Wrath frowned at him.
Because it actually will be mine. No — Dorian's guild.
"See! You called it yours again!"
You're surprisingly lucid today. Were the macarons that good?
At the Black Market, Denning Rose had offered them macarons to share, and they must have agreed with Wrath — he was back to his usual self.
"They were exquisite. Had it not been for that one matter, This King would have taken that child as a servant."
Wrath smacked his lips, still regretting that Lucy, the village chief's granddaughter, had been the one to offer the macarons first.
You really cannot describe flavor to save your life.
Raon sighed at him.
If you're going to talk about taste, try doing it the way Lady Denning Rose did. That's the kind of thing that makes feeding you feel worthwhile.
Denning Rose had described the raspberry pie and the macarons with the refined vocabulary of a true gourmet. Some of it had even resonated — enough that Raon had wanted to send her more desserts as a gift.
"This King can do it perfectly well if This King so chooses!"
Then do it.
"Nngh..."
Wrath scratched his chin with a tiny round fist, then jerked his head up.
"The macaron's cookie was crisp as tree bark, and the raspberry cream was soft as a rag!"
...
He seemed to be parroting Denning Rose's metaphors from memory, but the difference was night and day. Raon couldn't even tell where to begin criticizing it.
You have no talent.
"Guh..."
Give it up.
Raon told Dorian to get some rest, then went looking for Phalen's room.
He knocked lightly. A peevish voice answered from inside.
"Who is it?!"
Irritated footsteps followed, no less sharp than the voice, and the door opened.
"I told you not to come find me— hk!"
Phalen, her hair down and loose, started to shout and then clamped her mouth shut.
"Y-you've arrived."
The woman who had been carrying herself like a savage beast took one look at Raon's face and shrank into a herbivore, her shoulders curling in.
Raon glanced around. Thanks to Phalen having bitten people, there was no one nearby. He walked into her room as if it were his own.
"D-did your business go well?"
"I'll be the one asking questions."
Raon cut her off cold.
"I-I'm sorry."
The terror in Phalen's eyes had not faded in the slightest.
"Did the Black Snake contact you before I returned?"
"N-no. There was no contact at all. I hung cloth over the window, but they never came..."
Phalen shook her head. After she had sent the information, all communication had simply stopped.
"As I thought."
Raon gave a short laugh and nodded.
They're erasing the Black Snake.
An assassination organization, upon failing a contract, was supposed to either pay a penalty or report the failure and send additional assassins to finish the job. That they were doing neither meant Deruth intended to wipe the name Black Snake off the board entirely.
I can see exactly how he'll move.
He had been beaten three times by Raon alone. He would lie low for a while.
Three losses, the orphanage taken, the Undersea Dungeon taken — given Deruth's temperament, he would be so furious he had gone cold. The fact that he was even discarding the Black Snake made it obvious: he would leave Raon alone for the time being, gather information, and then strike surgically at some dark corner or weakness.
That doesn't mean I can let my guard down.
Deruth was a man of vicious tenacity and ice-cold calculation. Even if Raon could read his thinking, he had to keep his mind sharp.
Having sorted his thoughts, Raon turned back to Phalen.
"Did you bring the items for the test?"
"Yes. But it already looks like it's over."
Phalen chewed her lip.
"My second brother is bringing a whole drake, and my eldest brother will bring something no worse. There's no way we can win."
She seemed to have confirmed that Dorian had arrived empty-handed, and had concluded they had failed to take the drake in the Zamari Mountain Range.
"I suppose so."
There was no particular need to tell Phalen the truth. Raon nodded and stood.
"I won't be coming to find you separately after this. You understand what that means?"
"F-forget everything that's happened until now..."
"You're quick."
Raon smiled and caught Phalen by the chin.
"You will forget it so thoroughly that your mouth will not open even if you drink, even if you're brainwashed. If a problem arises, she will come find you again."
"Hiiiek!"
The instant he mentioned Merlin coming back, Phalen flailed in panic and toppled over backward.
"I-I won't! I swear I won't! Please, please...!"
She dropped to her knees and wrung her hands.
"Just keep your mouth shut."
Raon covered his own lips with a finger and looked down at her.
"Yes. Yes! Absolutely!"
Phalen nodded so hard the veins stood out in her eyes. Judging by the sheer terror on her, she would not breathe a word of this for the rest of her life.
What on earth did Merlin do to her to make her this afraid?
Raon left Phalen's room with a dry laugh.
"Th-This King has no particular desire to know."
Wrath shuddered from head to toe, apparently having recalled Merlin himself.
"When it comes to that madwoman, ignorance is the finest medicine!"
He shook his head violently, insisting he neither knew nor wished to see.
You said you'd had a similar experience, didn't you?
"Indeed! There was a leech of a creature, once."
A leech, huh...
Raon was still talking with Wrath as he headed for his lodgings, and found Dorian and Ligwin, Adis's butler, standing in front of the door.
"Lord Raon. The Guild Master wishes to see you. Would you have a moment?"
Ligwin bowed with impeccable courtesy.
"That's fine. Lead the way."
Raon nodded. He had more or less expected this. He followed Ligwin to the Guild Master's office.
When they opened the door, Adis Sefia was seated at his desk, reviewing documents — the same posture, the same presence, as if he had been stamped from a mold.
"It has been some time."
Adis set his pen down on the papers and lifted his gaze to Raon.
"Did your business go well?"
"You'd do better to ask the man it concerns."
Raon smiled faintly and gestured at Dorian.
"Hrm."
Adis nodded and turned his eyes to Dorian.
"Did you obtain the goods?"
"Y-yes..."
Dorian nodded weakly, having clearly taken Raon's earlier instructions to heart.
"There is no strength in your voice. It would seem you failed to obtain what you wanted."
"Mm..."
True to form for someone who could not lie to save his life, Dorian seemed to have decided that saying as little as possible was the safest course.
"A drake is not merely powerful — it is a rare monster. Failing to obtain one intact, or failing to hunt one at all, is nothing to be ashamed of. However..."
Adis's eyes went cold as he looked at Dorian.
"That is the sort of thing one says at an ordinary guild. To stand at the summit of Sepia, you must produce a drake even if none exists."
"R-right."
Dorian fidgeted with his fingers and nodded. His cheeks had gone red; he looked like a man who wanted nothing more than to pull the drake out and show it off this instant.
Of course he does.
This was a boy who pulled things out of his Belly Pouch at the slightest excuse, and this was a chance to show off to the father who had always dismissed him. Of course he was itching. But holding back now would win him something far greater.
"Take out what you brought. I will judge its quality myself."
Adis's voice was cold, but the gesture that accompanied it was gentle. He seemed to mean it as advice.
"I-I can't."
Dorian clutched his Belly Pouch and shook his head.
"Why not?"
"I have to live up to the anticipation..."
"Anticipation?"
"Th-that's not what I— urk!"
He looked at Raon, his lips trembling.
Haa.
Raon sighed inwardly and squeezed his eyes shut.
"I need to know what you have prepared—"
"If the Guild Master sees what I brought, you might leak the information to the other candidates! So I can't!"
Dorian lifted his head and all but shouted it.
Raon glanced at him and smiled faintly.
That's actually not bad.
It sounded like something Dorian had blurted out on the spot, but as a refusal, it landed rather well on Adis.
"Are you suggesting I might be your enemy?"
"Th-that's right."
"Hrm..."
Adis stroked his chin and nodded. His gaze had grown heavier than a moment before, but the heat banked deep in his eyes burned hotter still. He seemed to have liked Dorian's answer.
"Very well. Then go. We will see it on the day of the test."
Adis waved them off as if it were no concern of his.
"Ah..."
Dorian's lips trembled at that icy response, and he rubbed his Belly Pouch.
"Um..."
"Let's go."
Before Dorian could do something stupid, Raon offered Adis a farewell and dragged him out of the office.
"Hrm..."
Ligwin watched the door they had left through and smiled faintly.
"The youngest young master has grown considerably."
"He has. To look at me as an enemy and speak with that much spine — he has changed a great deal."
Adis tapped the desk lightly with a finger and nodded.
"It would seem the company one keeps truly does matter. The White Sword Dragon. He is not a man who can be judged by age or martial strength alone."
Ligwin nodded, a quiet pride in his eyes.
"That is what they call a bond."
Adis picked up the pen he had set down, a satisfied smile on his face.
"I find myself looking forward to the day of the test. It seems he has prepared something quite interesting."
The day the Gray Hammer Guild was due to arrive — and the final day of the Succession Test.
Raon walked with an easy stride toward the guild's training grounds.
The interior was packed. The people filling every available space looked to be merchants of the Sepia Merchant Guild gathered from across the entire continent.
"Seeing it like this... there really are a lot of merchants in this guild."
Dorian swallowed as he took in the sea of people packing the training grounds.
"It's the test that decides who becomes the next Guild Master. Of course they came."
The selection of a successor was a matter that could decide the future of every merchant under Sepia. They had all carved time out of busy lives to be here.
"If I become Guild Master, all these people will be under me?"
"That's right. It means you'll be responsible for every last one of them. Think you can do it?"
"H-honestly, I don't have the confidence. But..."
Raon looked at him. Dorian had his head down, the back of his neck trembling.
"Couldn't I just ask someone I trust for help?"
He lifted his face a fraction. His eyes were still shaking, but a quiet light of trust lived in them.
"That cowardly brat is finally saying something This King can approve of."
Wrath, who rarely had a kind word for Dorian, smiled with something like pride.
He is, isn't he.
Asking for help took courage too.
"That's a good answer."
Raon nodded, satisfied.
"When your own strength isn't enough, turning to someone you can trust is a fine way to do things."
"Th-thank you! You'll help me too, right, Vice Captain?!"
"I'm expensive, though. Very expensive. You know that, right?"
"Uh..."
"You should start paying the friendship fee in advance."
"Ah. Yes..."
Dorian's eyebrows drooped, and his lips went faintly blue.
"Why must you crush This King's subordinate's spirit yet again!"
Wrath grabbed at Raon's sleeve and bellowed.
Because it's funny.
Raon gave Dorian's shoulder a light pat and headed for the center of the training grounds. Dialun, the second son, and Phalen, the third, were already there.
In front of Dialun lay a whole drake just shy of twenty meters. In front of Phalen, a drake's claws, teeth, and horn had been laid out with meticulous care.
Jeser isn't here.
The eldest, Jeser, had still not arrived at the guild. Raon could guess what he was aiming for, and it made him want to laugh.
He went to stand beside Phalen with Dorian.
"A-ah, hello."
"It's been some time."
Phalen offered an awkward greeting. Dialun dipped his head with a faint scowl. Neither of them looked pleased, despite having brought materials.
Word of what Jeser was bringing seemed to have already gotten around.
"We're just extras at this point. The result is already decided. Our elder brother has won."
Dialun stared down at the stuffed drake and bit his lip.
"Why does Young Master Dialun look so grim?"
"Right? He brought a whole drake. Why does he already look like he's lost?"
"The rumors are slow today. Young Master Jeser is bringing a drake far larger than that one!"
"Really? Then why isn't he here?"
"He's waiting. For the best possible moment."
The rumor had reached the crowd as well. Everyone seemed certain that Jeser, the eldest, would become the successor.
Before the sun reached the center of the sky, the doors of the training grounds swung open with a deep, satisfying boom, and Adis, master of the Sepia Merchant Guild, walked in.
His stride was calm but carried weight. He came to a stop before the three successor candidates.
"Guests from the Gray Hammer Guild will be arriving shortly. Before they do, we will examine what you have brought."
Adis stood with his hands behind his back and looked over the three candidates in turn.
"Guild Master."
Dialun raised a hand, his eyes narrowing.
"Elder Brother Jeser has not yet arrived."
"Keeping one's appointed time is also an essential virtue of a merchant. If he has not arrived by noon, then no matter how fine a drake he brings, he will be disqualif—"
"I would ask you to wait a little on that."
Adis's brow furrowed, and Dialun's face was just beginning to flush, when Jeser's unhurried voice drifted down.
"Wh-what was that?!"
"Where is it?"
"Above!"
"It's coming from above!"
At the merchants' cries, every head in the grounds tipped back. A black speck that had been clinging to the sun like a star out in daylight swelled larger and larger as it dropped toward the center of the training grounds.
It struck.
Magic must have been involved — the impact itself was not so great — but a thick plume of yellow sand and dust billowed up over the training grounds.
Ligwin flicked a hand. The dust settled, and the thing that had landed in the center of the grounds came into view.
Atop a gray board that looked to stretch well past thirty meters, something enormous lay wrapped in heavy cloth.
"It is not yet noon, so I trust I am not late?"
Jeser, who had been riding the board, stepped down and came to stand before Adis.
"Hrm."
Adis nodded slowly.
"Yes. You arrived just in time."
"You have my thanks."
Jeser bowed with impeccable courtesy. Ease overflowed from his posture and his expression — the ease of a man who had already won.
"It seems everyone else has already presented what they brought. Then I suppose I should show you mine as well."
He turned, seized the black cloth covering the board, and flung it into the air. The cloth surged skyward like a snapping banner, and the drake that had been hidden beneath it was revealed.
Jeser's subordinates came forward and stretched the drake's head and tail out to their full length. A majestic size that seemed to fill half the training grounds — a colossal drake well over twenty-five meters.
"Wooooaaaaah!"
"Th-that's a drake?"
"Why is it so huge? That's a dragon, isn't it?"
"I-it's over. You don't even have to look. The result is already decided!"
"Young Master Jeser will be the successor."
The merchants packing the training grounds roared. Listening to that sky-shaking cheer, it was obvious that the merchants who had followed Jeser from the beginning far outnumbered those backing any other candidate.
"Kh..."
"Damn it..."
Dialun and Phalen bit their lips as they stared at the drake Jeser had brought. The gap was so vast they did not even seem to consider competing.
"Hrm."
Jeser stood tall, savoring the gazes that belonged to him and him alone.
Raon watched him and smiled faintly.
Just as I expected.
He had stayed away until now for this exact production. With Jeser's connections, he could have used magic and arrived far sooner. That he had waited until the day itself made it obvious — he had intended to capture the merchants' hearts with this spectacular entrance.
It was impressive. But...
In the end, you are the one who will be the extra.
Thanks to the stage Jeser had built, the scene about to unfold would be even more entertaining.
"The contest is decided, then."
Jeser looked down on the other candidates with an arrogant gaze.
Just as he had in the dining hall, he did not even glance at Dorian. He did not seem to count his youngest brother as a sibling, let alone a rival.
"Perhaps it would be best to send the other children inside..."
"No."
Adis raised a hand and cut him off.
"Dorian has not yet presented what he brought."
"Did he not simply fail to bring anything?"
"Who can say. I do not know either."
Adis looked at Dorian, and at Raon standing behind him.
"If you have brought something, take it out."
"Yes."
Dorian swallowed and stepped forward.
"Everyone, please step back a little."
He gestured at Phalen, Dialun, Jeser, and the subordinates behind them. Even that was not enough — he waved back the spectators who had come crowding to the front as well.
"What's he trying to do?"
"Just putting on airs, isn't he?"
"Could be. A last bit of thrashing."
"That's the only way he'd get anyone to look at him."
The people did step back, if only because they were standing before Adis — but they shook their heads, sneering at Dorian all the while.
"Hoo..."
Dorian drew a slow breath and looked at Raon.
"Do it."
"Yes, sir!"
Seeing Raon smile as if giving him permission, Dorian put his hand into the Belly Pouch. The first thing to emerge was a reptile's head, no larger than a lizard's.
"Bwahahahaha!"
"What is that?!"
"He told you to bring a drake, not a lizard!"
"It's all ov— wait?"
"Wh-wha—?!"
The instant it left the Belly Pouch, the reptile's head swelled, ballooning into a drake's skull vast enough to swallow several grown men whole.
"Ah..."
"Th-that's..."
"Hhhk—!"
The moment the full body of a drake over thirty-five meters long spilled completely from Dorian's Belly Pouch, the jaws of the successor candidates — Jeser included — and every merchant in the grounds dropped as if they had come unhinged.
The training grounds, which had been filled with cheers large and small celebrating Jeser's victory, sank into a silence so complete it might have been a library.
Raon took that stillness in with both eyes and smiled.
Those faces. That's what I wanted to see.